They said thy cheeks like roses were,
Thy lips, 'two rosebuds wet with dew;'
But is it so?
Could ever flower with thee compare?
Ah no! ah no!
Oh never yet was rose so fair!
Could flowers like thee in gardens grow,
The gardeners all were blithe, I trow.
"They said thine eye was like the star,
The brightest star that beams above,